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With a grunt, he pulled his cell phone closer and tapped in a code. A thin smile cracked his lips as the little dot appeared, moving across the screen. Good. The tracking device indicated the fool had finally reached the city. Ronan Keane had precious little time left to deliver Madelaine.

Leonid didn’t wait for what he wanted. He never had. He’d clawed his way to wealth by being ruthless, by taking what others thought untouchable. His empire had been built on shattered bones and fear, and even now, in this wasted shell of a body, he still commanded obedience.

If Ronan didn’t like being manipulated, he shouldn’t have lost control of his territory. It was that simple.

Leonid pushed the tray away, broth sloshing onto the floor as it nearly toppled. He didn’t care. The nurse would handle it, cleaning his filth just like always.

Now, where was his assistant? The idiot should have returned with the contracts already. Leonid shifted against the damp sheets, the sores burning anew, and bared his yellowed teeth in a humorless smile. He might stink of antiseptic and decay, but he wasn’t dead yet.

And when the lovely Madelaine finally came to his bed, he would prove it.

Chapter 13

“Do you want to get out of the house for a bit?” Paulo asked.

Madelaine turned, blinking at the man who had managed to occupy far too much of her attention over the last twenty-four hours. After inhaling the first batch of cookies she’d made, he’d disappeared, like some mafia version of Batman. Rosa had whisked away the remaining batter, mumbling something about taking cookies to a shelter. Madelaine hadn’t argued; it sounded noble and important, and she didn’t trust herself not to eat them all anyway.

So, she’d retreated into Paulo’s library, chosen a book off the shelf, and had done her best to read it. But, while her eyes had traveled across the pages, her brain had been too busy circling him. Paulo Ruffino. Mafia boss. King of Detroit. Maybe king of Michigan. Possibly emperor of the entire Midwest. Madelaine didn’t really know how far his control extended.

Her father had power too. Or so she’d thought. But compared to what she’d overheard while living with Paulo for the past few days, Ronan Keane was starting to sound more like a thug with a rusty knife compared to Paulo.

“Madelaine?” Paulo prompted.

What was the question again?

“Leave?” she repeated, hugging the book to her chest. “No. I don’t want to leave.” The words poured out in a rush. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a burden. I can…” She stopped, reaching for words she couldn’t find. She had no money, no job, no car, no skills beyond knowing which fork to use for salad versus grapefruit. What could she possibly offer? “Please,” she blurted. “Can I stay just a little longer? I’ll call some friends, I’ll find a place, I’ll get out of your hair. I don’t want to be a bother.”

Paulo stepped forward, waving her words away with enough force to stop her mid-babble. “You’re not leaving,” he snapped, his voice like steel. “And you’re not a burden. If anything, I’d prefer you take up more space.”

He planted his fists on his hips, broad shoulders pulling his shirt taut, and she found her eyes drifting helplessly down the hard line of his chest.

“You sneak around like you’re trying to disappear,” he growled. “Madelaine, you’re not a burden. Why would you even think that?”

“Because…?” she tried weakly. Because her father had treated her like dead weight all her life. Because every decision she’d ever made had been ridiculed. Because she had always been the mistake he couldn’t get rid of.

Paulo’s face twisted into a knowing, outraged expression. “Because your father shipped you off to boarding school instead of keeping you close and actually being a parent,” Paulo finished for her, clearly disgusted. “Your father is an ass, Madelaine.”

Her eyes widened. No one had ever said it so explicitly before.

“But…you just said you wanted me to get out of the house.”

He dragged a hand over his face, groaning. “No. I asked if you’d like to get out of the house. Meaning out for a bit. Fresh air. A change of scenery. Not forever.”

“Oh.” She blinked, then offered a sheepish smile. “So…not eviction. More like a field trip.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched, as though he was fighting not to smile back.

She searched his dark eyes, desperate to see the truth. She’d learned early on to read people. Eyes told stories mouths never did. But Paulo’s gaze was unreadable. He was a master at the blank stare, the kind that gave nothing away.

“What do you mean, then?” she asked carefully, trying not to sound as relieved as she felt. He wasn’t throwing her out. Not yet. She had time to breathe.

But even as that thought soothed her, another slid in like ice. This was still temporary. Always temporary. She still needed to figure out her next step.

Paulo raked a hand through his dark hair, then folded his arms across his chest. The motion made him look both imposing and oddly uncertain. “I thought about going out to play a round of golf. Would you like to come? Get some fresh air?”

She glanced out the window. The air outside was crisp and pleasant, the heat of summer easing into something mellower. It did sound nice. Too nice.

“Um…” She winced. “I’m absolutely awful at golf. As in… last time I played, everyone else on the course begged me to stop. I’m still not sure if it was because of the broken turf or the angry grumbles when I hit the ball backwards.”